


Touched

by Laralie



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-13
Updated: 2015-07-13
Packaged: 2018-04-09 03:49:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4332759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laralie/pseuds/Laralie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Corypheus has been defeated.  All of Skyhold is celebrating, except the one person who should be the happiest - Alora Lavellan.  Cullen has decided it would only be polite to ask why.  After all, he and the Inquisitor have grown to be close friends...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Touched

Cullen has little patience for social events, and it would seem this one will never end. Such gatherings exhaust him, and the day has already been far too long. He’s taken a seat next to Varric. It he’s going to be forced to attend a celebration, he will insist on at least enjoying the company.

“Hey. Curly.” Varric motions for Cullen to lean in. It is difficult to hear the dwarf’s voice over the loud noises of celebration that fill the great halls of Skyhold. “Have you talked with Alora? She certainly doesn’t look very happy for a woman who just saved the world.”

Varric is right.

Corypheus is defeated, his forces routed. The Inquisition is being lauded throughout all of Thedas, and rightly so. Hosting a grand celebration at Skyhold had only seemed appropriate, and Josephine had succeeded in coordinating an extraordinary affair. The food and drink are plenty, the mood joyful and optimistic about the future of Thedas and the Inquisition.

But Alora appears miserable.

She had the social graces to speak to everyone she was expected to upon arriving. Politeness is one thing she had learned while serving as Inquisitor. Currently, Alora is making talk with Fiona, but her eyes are heavy with sadness and exhaustion. She says little to the First Enchanter, allowing Fiona to carry on the conversation. Before, Alora always enjoyed any reason to be social and have a gathering with her friends. This is unlike her.

“I spoke with her earlier. She did seem understandably tired.” Cullen looks away uncomfortably.

“I think you know it’s a little more than that.” Varric glances at the ex-Templar, raising an eyebrow. “Why don’t you go speak to her once she’s finished with all of this social crap?”

“I, ah, think she’d rather be alone, Varric.” Suddenly, Cullen becomes very interested in the lemon cakes on the plate in front of him. Any excuse to not look the dwarf in the eye.

“And I think she’d rather be with a friend. Your call, Curly.” Varric pushes his chair back from the table, yawning so loudly Cullen can hear it over the noise of the festivities. “I’m headed to bed. But I think if you don’t go to her, you might regret it.”

Cullen watches him leave. Maker, he hates it when Varric is right.

****

It was difficult not to keep his eyes on the massive scar in the sky. The Breach was a reminder of the death that had followed him for the past few days. So many people had died at the conclave, people that he knew, and he was helpless to save any of them. Their deaths weighed heavily on his conscience. Leliana, Josephine, and Alora were convinced that the mages at Redcliffe had the answers to their problems. Cullen wasn’t so certain, but his opinion had been outnumbered. Alora, in particular, was reluctant to turn to any Templar for assistance and she had made certain to voice her opinion on them. ‘ _Chantry lapdogs.’ ‘Religious zealots_.’ Cullen was no longer a Templar, but her words still stung. He knew that the Dalish harbored an intense dislike of the Chantry, but he was still taken aback by Alora’s distrustful nature.

One of his men told him Alora had been this way. The woods near Haven were not particularly dense, but finding one woman was difficult. And irritating. ‘ _Maker, where could she be?’_

And then he saw her.

She was alone, sitting at the edge of the lake on the outskirts of the camp. Cullen didn’t understand how she could stand the cold in her thin leather jerkin. The cold still nipped at him, even through his thick armor. Her bow lay next to her on the ground, and she kept one hand on it, protectively. Cullen had never seen her without it. Perhaps it meant something to her Clan.

“Herald?”

She did not move, let alone acknowledge him. He wasn’t sure if she was being difficult, or if she was truly so lost in her thoughts that she did not hear him. “Ah, Herald?”

“Don’t call me that. My name is Alora.” She finally turned. And, of course, she seemed to be annoyed with him, as she perpetually was. “What do you want?”

“Cassandra, Varric, and Solas are ready to depart for Redcliffe. They asked me to come find you, and…”

“Fine.” Alora resumed gazing at lake and completely ignoring him. Cullen found it difficult to fight the growing irritation with her.

He approached and offered her his hand. “I suppose it’s time to be leaving?”

She looked at him with utter contempt, slapping his hand away. “Never try to touch me, _shemlen_.”

He had tried to be understanding. Surely, she had never seen so many humans in her life before a few days ago. Somehow, she survived an explosion that killed everyone around her. She was accused of murdering Divine Justinia, and then exonerated. He could not imagine how Alora felt.

But, Maker, this woman was unpleasant.

Without another word, he left her.

*****

“Are you enjoying yourself, Commander?” Silently, Leliana appeared next to him. She did this often, but it always unnerves him.

“Sister Leliana. Or should we be referring to you as the new Divine?”

The bard smiles slyly. “Not quite. There will be some time before I assume my new position.” Her nimble fingers snatch a lemon cake from his plate. She takes a bite. Powdered sugar from the treat cover her lips and she licks it away. “I’ve always had such a weakness for lemon cakes. I’ve been eating them all night.” Leliana gestures at the seat next to Cullen’s. “May I?” Cullen nods.

She looks around her for a moment. Clearly, she does not want her words to be heard by anyone else. “There is something you should know. It is about Solas.”

Cullen frowns. “Is something the matter?”

“Perhaps.”

The Commander frowns deeper. “No games, Leliana.”

“He seems to be missing.”

“Missing? Since when?”

“He has not been seen since Corypheus was defeated.”

“Well, that’s certainly…strange.” Cullen had trusted Solas, but “Could it have been more than a coincidence that he arrived at the Conclave to aid us when he did?”

Leliana smiles her infuriating, coy smile. “Perhaps.”

Cullen looks across the room at Alora. Now her evident pain is starting to make sense.

*****

They had been at Skyhold for several weeks.

The fortress had been a most unexpected blessing. It was easily defensible, and after the disaster that was Haven, Cullen was more concerned with protecting the growing flock of pilgrims who had journeyed to Skyhold than anything else. His accommodations were more than adequate; indeed, it was more than he had ever enjoyed as a Templar. His office was quaint but serviceable. The roof was in need of repair, but there were more pressing matters he was concerned with.

When he had accepted his position as Commander, he did not anticipate the amount of paperwork he would push through each day. Letters had begun to come in from all corners of Thedas. Sighing, he stared at the stack of parchment on his desk. It did not seem to be much smaller than it had been when he began his day. Cullen rubbed his temples. He could feel the familiar ache of a headache growing worse. ' _Damn this lyrium withdrawal. When will this pass?'_ He stood from his desk, pushing his chair back. ' _All of this paperwork is maddening_.' Cullen needed air.

He pushed open his door and was greeted with warm sunlight. The brightnessdid little to improve his headache, but it did improve his mood. And to his surprise, Alora was a few feet from his office, staring at the courtyard that lay beneath her.

"Commander.” She nodded politely, but she did not raise her eyes from the yard. Judging from her expression, the beauty of the day was lost on her. She looked like a woman who had the weight of the world on her shoulders, and Cullen suspected that wasn't far from the truth.

"Inquisitor.” It still felt odd to call Alora by her newest title. He would become accustomed to it in time, but he was not sure if she would. She had been quite...hesitant to accept her role as Inquisitor. He stood by her on the parapet, leaving an appropriate distance between them. Their relationship had developed into a mutual respect, and although he would not describe them as friends, they had grown more comfortable in each other’s presence.

"They all depend on me, don't they?" Alora asked softly. He followed her gaze to the courtyard. She was watching all of the pilgrims with worry in her eyes, her expression heavy. "I have doubts. About the Fade. About what happened to the Divine. I can't remember anything clearly. Am I just lying to myself?"

Cullen was careful not to show his surprise. Alora had never shared her feelings and thoughts this openly with him before. She had given her opinions about the Inquisition’s activities, of course, but she had never admitted the fears and doubts he had always assumed someone in her position would have. He wondered if it was because she was truly comfortable with him, or if it was because he happened to be there.

For a moment, she seemed angry with herself. Her hands tightly curled into fists. "Cullen, I should tell them the truth. This is dishonest. I'm a Dalish elf, not the Herald of Andraste."

"No.” The sternness of his voice surprised him, and from the expression on her face, Alora felt the same.

He could see the irritation in her blue eyes as she raised an eyebrow. "And why is that, Commander?"

"They need you, Herald. They need to believe in something, and they believe in you.”

“I don’t deserve to be their Inquisitor.” Her voice cracked with emotion, and Cullen thought she may dissolve into tears. But she cleared her throat and the moment was gone. “So many died at Haven. I have let so many people down.”

“You are not responsible for our losses at Haven. Corypheus is. You have gotten us this far. Do not doubt yourself."

Alora looked away, staring across the courtyard. She said nothing, and they settled into a comfortable silence, watching the activity and bustle unfold throughout Skyhold. Finally, she nodded. "Thank you, Cullen. You have given me much to think about.” She touched his hand so lightly, so softly, that he could not feel it through his gloves. The blue eyes that had looked so angry moments before had softened. "I haven’t always treated you kindly, and for that, I apologize.” Her hand left his, and she turned to leave. Perhaps it was his imagination, but her walk seemed lighter and her face seemed brighter than it had in days.

*****

‘ _All right. What are you going to say to her?’_

Alora is still mingling with her guests. Currently, her attention is held by Cassandra. The two women had been quite antagonistic towards each other when they first met, but they had grown to be close friends. Cassandra had remarked to him that she had never expected to find a sister in Alora, but she had. Cullen is not surprised. Both women are strong. They do not hesitate to speak their minds, but are respectful of each other. And they both read Varric’s terrible romance novels and thought no one else knew about it.

“You’ve been staring at her all night.” Dorian looks rather smug about this. “Do try to be a little more subtle.”

Cullen rolls his eyes. “It’s not what you’re thinking. I…thought she looked upset. I was going to speak to her once she retires to her room.”

“Ah, you’re right. You’re just planning on speaking to her. In her chambers. Alone.” The mage winks. Cullen grimaces. “Oh, I’ll stop teasing you. It’s just so easy.”

Cullen had initially mistrusted Dorian. How could he not? The man was a mage from Tevinter, as well as a former ally of Alexius. But Dorian has now proven his loyalty many times over, both to the Inquisition and to Alora. “Perhaps you…have some advice. What should I say to her?”

“Have you not spoken to a woman before?”

Cullen blushes furiously. “Not in a very long time, Dorian. I’ve been quite busy lately.”

Dorian laughs. “Oh, Commander, you truly do make this too easy for me.”

“Do you have anything to say, or are you just going to mock me?”

The mage thinks for a moment, his face uncharacteristically serious. “I don’t think you need to say anything at all as long as you’re there for her.”

*****

Cullen did not drink alcohol often, but he did like to make appearances at Herald’s Rest. His troops enjoyed seeing their commander among them, and he never wanted to appear as if he felt above them. He could sense the final battle with Corypheus was drawing near. Morale among his men was crucially important now.

He hesitated. Usually, Herald’s Rest was rowdy. But Cullen heard nothing. Maryden was not even singing. Cautiously, he pushed open the door.

Alora was there. Drinking. All eyes were on her.

Alora had mentioned to Cullen several times that she could not stand the taste of alcohol. Yet, she was deep in her cups. Several empty tankards were on the bar in front of her. She was facing away from him so he could not see her expression, but he did not need to see her face to know something was wrong. Usually, she sat tall and strong, her confidence showing through her posture. Tonight, she was slumped over, her shoulders hunched. He could sense her sadness.

"Inquisitor?" Cullen asked softly. He sat on the seat next to her.

Alora immediately turned away, hiding her face from him. She was embarrassed.

“Is there anything I can do to help? Do you need to talk? I…”

“Look at me.” Alora turned to look at him.

"Your...face.” He regretted the words as soon as he spoke them, but he could not take them back. Her _vallasllin_ was gone. The bright blue markings that had once covered her face had disappeared as if they'd never existed. In their place were streaks of tears that had long since dried, but she hadn't bothered to wipe them away.

"Don't say anything. Don’t ask anything. Just don't.” Her angry words slurred together.

Cullen heard the hurt in her voice and he knew better than to pry. He nodded. “I understand.” He may not have had considerable relationship experience, but he would have been blind not to notice the growing closeness between Alora and Solas. If she was not confiding in Solas, something terrible must have happened between them. The silence in the Herald’s Rest was deafening, but he could not think of anything to say that would comfort her. "Would you like me to keep you company, Inquisitor?"

She hesitated, then slowly nodded. "Don’t say anything. Please. Just stay with me."

The tavern patrons were staring at them, but neither of them cared. All of Skyhold could have been in the Herald’s Rest with them, and he would have paid them no mind. He remembered the touch they had shared months ago. His hand tentatively reached across the bar to hold hers. She flinched a moment in surprise, but she did not move away.

*****

“Inquisitor?” Cullen knocks on the door to Alora’s chambers.

Part of him hopes she won’t respond so he will have a reason not to enter. But after a moment, her voices calls out for him to come in. He closes his eyes and pushes open the door. ‘ _What am I doing?_ ’

Cullen has never been in Alora’s room. It is spacious and beautifully decorated, fit for the leader of the Inquisition. He notices the Dalish influence and trophies scattered throughout her chambers. Even now, Alora remains fiercely proud of her heritage. Her room opens to a balcony with a beautiful view of the mountains. Alora herself stands on the balcony, arms folded, looking at him curiously. “Did you need me for something?”

“I, ah, apologize. I know you wished to be alone, Inquisitor.”

Alora raises an eyebrow, amused. “So you came into my room? That doesn’t make any sense, Cullen.”

‘ _You idiot.’_ “I suppose it doesn’t, no.” Awkwardly, he clears his throat. “The view is quite nice. The sunset is lovely tonight. Perhaps the Maker gave us this beautiful sight this evening.”

“Or maybe the Creators did.” Alora smiles mischievously.

Cullen laughs. Their friendship has certainly come a long way from the days of making snide, passive aggressive remarks at each other. “You could be right.”

Alora sighs. “I just wish that… Never mind. It’s not important.” Nervously, she chews her bottom lip as if to cut off her words.

“We can look for him, Inquisitor.” He had not planned on discussing Solas, but since Alora mentioned him first, he feels she is comfortable enough to listen to his thoughts.

“You know about Solas?” she asks warily. Obviously, this was not news that many in the Inquisition knew.

“Leliana told me.”

Alora rolls her eyes. “Oh, of course she did.”

“Did you know that he was going to leave?”

“Of course I didn’t know,” she snaps. “I still don’t understand it. He told me goodbye. And then he was gone.”

“Now that Corypheus has been defeated, we have the men to spare. We will find him.”

She shakes her head. “You won’t find him, Cullen. He doesn’t want to be found.”

“Perhaps Leliana would have more luck than I?”

“Perhaps.” Alora smiles sadly, then resumes watching the sunset. Cullen feels immense pity for her. Alora saved Thedas. She should be celebrating. She should be happy. And perhaps she _is_ happy, but it is tinged with sadness, and he can not blame her.

Cullen can think of nothing to say. Instead, he takes her hand. This time, she does not flinch or move away. Her hand squeezes his in return. She looks at the Commander, their eyes meeting. “Thank you. This helps.”

In that moment, Cullen finds a bit of courage he didn’t realize he had. It could be his friend’s words, or that Alora seems to genuinely appreciate his support, but Cullen suddenly feels it would be right to take her other hand in his. And so he does. Alora looks at him, her blue eyes shining in surprise. “Cullen?” She is clearly not expecting this, but she does not pull away.

“Anything you need, Inquisitor,” he replies softly.

Alora laughs, and her voice is lovely. One moment he’s looking into her eyes, and the next, she is rising on her tiptoes, her lips touching his. The kiss is soft and gentle, and when she pulls away, he marvels at how tender her eyes could look at him.

“Alora, I…”

Alora puts a finger to his lips. “Shhh. This is perfect.”

She rests her head gently on his chest, and together, they watch the sun set far beyond the mountains.


End file.
